Reasons
by amalspach
Summary: Why Hermione and Ron fell in love. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Sorry, but I'm not JK Rowling.**

 **Also, I know a lot of people in this fandom don't always understand why Hermione and Ron became a thing. I recently read and amazing fic - probably the best Harry Potter fanfiction I've every encountered - on Hermione and Percy becoming a couple. I never thought of them like that (poor Percy really is an underappreciated character who is often ignored) but the idea made me wonder why Ron and Hermione ended up together. The pairing is a little random and leaves much to be explained, setting aside the fact that the books were written centering around Harry, who has a tendency to be obscenely oblivious. This was my attempt to say why they fell in love other than 'the plot demanded the two friends to be a couple for cliche's sake'.**

 **I mean, yeah, JK Rowling clearly did this on purpose. She's _JK Rowling_ , and even years after the books we're all figuring out why she did the things she did. Some of the theories on the three brothers and death are really quite amazing; I feel like a complete nerd admitting that but I spend _hours_ thinking about the easter eggs. It's incredible. However, the fandom has long deliberated over whether or not they should have been a couple and this was what I came up with. **

**It's a good ship, really. I like them together. I just wanted to give some illumination to those who wondered why.**

* * *

Hermione could never exactly say why she married him. It was never one reason, but all of them, or perhaps there wasn't any sort of logic at all. In any case, they were married now, and that would be for forever.

No, no, maybe it was because of how he always challenged her. Ron Weasley wasn't always the easiest person to get along with, some days, and half the time she was around him she wanted to slap the redhead for his ludicrous suggestions. He was her friend, but she wasn't ever really used to having friends. In muggle school, they ignored her, calling the young Granger a 'know it all' and a 'showoff'. This was simply her personality - books and cleverness, as she stated, and in the end, novels made excellent companions. They never judged, they never teased, and they certainly never abandoned you like people so often did. But Harry and Ron, they grew to accept her, if not understand her, and despite their differences, Ron always listened to her lengthy explanations no matter how tired or fed up or uninterested he was. He paid attention to her, always, and he appreciated her. He noticed her, even when half the school probably thought she was nothing but the brains of the golden trio. The redhead pushed her to be _someone_ other than their shadow or their friend.

That wasn't the only reason, though. There was more; there had to be more.

Ah, yes, it was also how he cared. Hermione Granger's life was many things - adventurous, exciting, magical - but 'easy' was never one of them. She had terrible days with bullying and studied well into the nights and long, hard hours were spent figuring out contingency plans, ways to keep her small, mismatched family safe. And in those times, Ron stood up for her against Draco, even if the efforts failed, and he helped her look for books in the library on occasion, and her best friends always thanked her profusely for getting them out of trouble yet again. The time she remembers the most vividly, the memory lit up like a lantern, was after her parents had been obliviated and she feared she would never see them again.

They had forgotten all the awards she'd gotten, the trips to the park, the birthday cakes. They had forgotten about a daughter with a head full of dreams and a whirlwind of ideas, one with an untameable mass of curls and bright eyes and a vast appreciation for her hardworking mother and father. Her parents had simply forgotten that they were parents, and that loss more than any other casualty during the war struck her between the ribs and refused to let go.

When the shock of their victory and the fierce sting of lives lost (four houses, the kitchens, beloved teachers, order members - it was one plus one plus one plus one plus one compounded, again and again, with so many lying dead) finally past, she was left bare with her feelings, scrubbed raw and exposed. Harry lay awake and gripped her hand the entire night.

"My entire family is gone," she whispered, looking at the common room's remains, covered in ashes, and the fireplace ahead that glowed so dimly. "They were my world. Where am I going to go now?" Harry said nothing, merely squeezing her tighter. It was a vow to stay, to make things right, but some things seemed unfixable.

Ron, oddly enough, had been gone for most of the night. When he finally reappeared, apparating into the room, he was holding a battered box with white knuckles.

"For you," he said quietly. Her shaking hands pulled apart the parcel, revealing Harry's wanted poster clippings and pictures from the Weasley family's vacation. Luna Lovegood's scribblings, complete with notes on mysterious creatures in the margins, and pressed plants from Neville, research from his studies that semester. There was Ginny's photo, and one of Fred and George from before the war, and the note from Regulus Black found in a locket. An etching of gryffindor house's members from last year, a hall pass for Dean Thomas, and even a picture of the old Order of the Phoenix.

"What is all this?" she asked, staring at the little box in awe, amazed that it could fit so many articles.

"A reminder," Ron answered, grabbing her hand and staring into her eyes solemnly. "Your parents may not get their memories back, but that doesn't mean you don't have a family." She began to cry, small, bitter tears stinging her eyes, but Ron and Harry simply let her weep in front of them, let her clutch the parcel like a lifeline.

She never forgot that. Hermione didn't think she ever could.

But still, this wasn't the only thing she loved him for.

Maybe it was his kindness - he always hated it when someone was overlooked or in pain, and this trait might have stemmed from being the youngest in such an enormous family. He strived to protect his loved ones, to ensure their happiness, to be supportive and nice to everyone he met. Ron Weasley was simply more _himself_ when he was helping others, when he had a purpose.

And that didn't touch his consideration.

After agonizing lessons, Ron always waited outside the classroom door for her, trying to get her to smile or maybe just squeezing her shoulder. He saved her food when she missed her lunch hour studying. He made a point to ask her how her day went, and he never made her feel as though she was inferior or alone.

Harry, Ginny, Luna, and her other friends were there too, she supposed, but it had always been _Ron_ that was most present, most in tune and willfully protective.

He took care of them, kept Harry and her respective sanities in tact during the hard times. He stood by them through everything. He _loved_ them.

That had always been enough for Hermione Granger.

He _loved_ her.

And that was the thing she loved about him the most. Ron Weasley would be loyal to his last, and a wonderful man every moment in between simply because of what he was, and this was what had drawn her to the redhead. The simple, unfathomable idea that he was there, and he was devoted to a fault made her realize that he was one of the few good things in her life.

And so she married him.

She is happy.

She is _alive_.

And she's his wife.

There are worse things to be.

* * *

Ron Weasley cannot begin to figure out what drew him to Hermione Granger, one of his best friends. After so many years of marriage, honestly, he simply couldn't remember a life before Hermione the wonder, the fierce girl who saved them a million times over in a million different ways.

He considers himself lucky, really. He has no idea how he ended up with someone so strong and smart, just by being himself. If you asked him, he'd say he doesn't deserve her - never did, but he's trying to be the best man he could be in order to someday be worthy of that honor.

Whenever he says that around his wife, she laughs at him like he's ridiculous - he is, though, and they both know it - and tells Ron that he doesn't need to earn anything.

Maybe not. But she's still incredible.

His wife always beams at that.

You know, at first he thinks it was the cleverness, actually. Hermione Granger, before then, was simply his friend, or maybe even just 'that girl we see in class'. And then she began hanging out with them.

It's not that he didn't know she was smart. Everyone knew Hermione was smart - blindingly so. But she was also smart in a think-on-your-feet, know what to say, avoid punishment sort of way and not the usual show-off vibes she tended to put off. He had never assumed that she corrected everyone, perfected herself and honed her abilities, as a part of her nature. Clearly, it had been a way to prove she was better than her fellow peers, and frankly, Ron had already had several older and more successful brothers. He knew he wasn't as popular or brave or reliable or even _smart_ as his siblings, though he certainly wasn't dumb and had quite the knack for chess, and he certainly hadn't needed some random girl to join the ranks of those preferable to him.

But she stood up for them. She used her massive intellect to help them, unraveling mysteries with her incredible mind in ways he couldn't have ever dreamt up. The brunette was only studious because she chose to make something of herself, and striving to be better was as much a part of her as it was to him. In this way, Hermione was clever, but not in the flashy way everyone seemed to notice. In a quiet, unappreciated common sense, the ability to pull her friends out of a tough spot in a quick lie or to even the playing field with a single spell or brilliant idea.

She was astounding, once he had bothered truly looking at her and not her grade point average. And he chides himself for not having seen her sooner.

However, there is more to a person than brains, and her certainly admires her for more than that. Hermione's strength, really, was almost even more amazing.

She didn't ever bring up her problems, it seemed. When she was hurting, she chose to shoulder them herself, not wanting to burden anybody else with her feelings. For someone so intelligent, it seemed like such a stupid move, keeping everything to herself. And yet she did this without fail, being so lovingly selfless, standing up to everything on her own. And then when Draco hassled her, when teachers snapped at her for being so _Hermione_ , afterwards she never complained. If there was anything, it was 'thanks for sticking up for me' or 'such tossers'. She deserved so much more - she deserved the world, really - and yet she constantly had to be the strong one. The rock of sanity, for his and Harry's sakes. The brunette with flyaway hair was not a porcelain doll, no, but she got in the habit of taking on the world and even if it chipped her into pieces, she would hold everything together.

That sort of inner strength, that sort of person, was rare and precious.

That's really when he started to fall, Ron thinks, when he realized just how much she put up with.

Then she was _beautiful_.

No, not beautiful in a 'model on a runway' context, but in an 'I've been up all night researching this for you and my eyes are dropping and somehow I'm still smiling' way. She's a storm of 'my shirt is untucked and my tie is crooked and I still look decent', and 'I spilled orange juice down my blouse and I laughed'. She's pretty in that way, and also in a way that is effortless.

She was studying one night, hair falling over one shoulder, eyebrows knit up in concentration, fingers twirling a quill. It was a night like any other, sometime after the Yule Ball, and Hermione and him had made up. The whole scene was utterly mundane, trivial, and otherwise forgettable.

Then she asked him where he was in the readings and he realized he had been staring at her.

Also, in some inexplicable way, Hermione was pretty. Again, not in the societal meaning, but in a luminescence. In who she was and how she acted she lit up a room.

And she was _beautiful_ , in that light.

Ron liked her quite a bit.

And he decided to take care of her.

He loved her because of how she grinned at him when he did something particularly brave or foolish - possibly both. He loved her because even when she rolled her eyes and told him he was doing everything wrong during extremely hard exams, she was fixing his mistakes. He loved her because she waited with him in the hospital when he got hurt just like he waited for her in second year. He loved her because she was caring and kind and bruised but not broken and she was simply _Hermione_ , and in the end, who wouldn't love her?

The redhead hadn't been given much in life, but he had been given her and her friendship, her and Harry, and that tended to make up for the rest.

Eventually, he did the only logical thing and he kissed her. Then he dated her. Then he married her, because a life without his Granger wasn't much of one to begin with.

It's not just one reason he loves her for, it's all of them, a storm of emotions and memories.

Isn't it incredible?

* * *

"Ron," Hermione says one morning as Ron washes the dishes. He knows the spell that will clean everything magically - his mother had ingrained it into his skull long ago - but there was something particularly domestic about doing it himself.

"Yes, Mione?" he questions, briefly looking up from the task. There are still suds all over Rosie's plate, and the thought makes him smile. He's a little bit in love with his six year old, he thinks, especially since he never imagined he would live past the war, let alone make a life that includes a daughter and a son.

"I'm pretty happy I married you," she mentions, wrapping her thin arms around his waist. "I love you."

"I love you too, Hermione," he responds instantly, not hesitating to enclose her in a hug as well. There's water all over her blue flannel pajamas - she hasn't changed into real clothing yet and they smell like mint toothpaste - but his wife doesn't seem to mind one bit. She tugs him closer all the same and her grip doesn't relax, doesn't falter, for a second.

In the end, she loves him and he loves her, and no matter what reasons have brought them there, that is all that matters.

* * *

 **So yeah. This is just my take on their romance, but I loved the idea of an explanation. I always thought that love isn't something that happens instantaneously - it is a gradual shift, a change and an expression that takes time, much like change. Maybe that's the reason falling in love with your best friend is such a big trope - it's making something familiar and unbreakable into something more, taking the care you feel for a person and allowing it to evolve. It's genuine, and more often than not, real.**

 **Perhaps that's just me, being an idealistic romantic. Either way, the notion has still carried.**

 **Ron and Hermione would slide into that format nicely, though. I assumed, after basic review, that simply being together is what cinched it. They didn't get together because they were friends and pieces of the golden trio, but because of a mutual appreciation of who the other was. And that, my friends, is the sort of love I'd like to aspire to.**

 **This got strangely deep. I should probably wrap this up.**

 **Anyhow, thanks for reading! I promise that I'm still alive - I'm working on a Malec model AU and a Miraculous Ladybug chapter which is already 9k long as well as the next installment of Transitions, my impossibly long scorose fic, and it's just taking a while. As for individual requests, no, I haven't forgotten about them, I'm just busy. I'll get to them eventually, I swear!**

 **Be sure to favorite and follow me and this story. I write for many fandoms and I'm sure you'll find something you like.**

 **Bye! See you next time!**


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